


Devil's Smile

by softieghost



Series: One for Silver [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Jean-Jacques Leroy, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time Topping, Pegging, Sex Toys, a little bit of I can fix you with my love trope, but its more like I cant fix you but I can help if youre willing to learn, but she fucks him good so I am anyway, idk if I can call her a top since the words top and bottom have a context within m/m relationships, top isabella yang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost
Summary: Isabella’s eyes sparkled with mischief as Jean bared his uncomfortable and impossible soul. She looked that way when they first met, after she filled her best friend’s locker with water balloons for her birthday and they sparkled the same way they had when she pulled him to a pier on some long forgotten beach and told him she loved him for the first time. She pushed him into the water right after and he promised to love her forever after he swam out of the ocean, covered in sea weed.“Why are you looking like you’re going to key Altin’s motorcycle?”“I’m about to go key Altin’s motorcycle.”





	Devil's Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KinoGlowWorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoGlowWorm/gifts).



At the banquet at Worlds Plisetsky had a silver band around his left ring finger and a post on Instagram rapidly approaching 10,000 likes. If Jean was a betting man, which he was, he’d put money on it surpassing 20,000 by the next morning and being full of mushy comments from Angels all over the planet (and absolutely none from JJ Girls. None!). Those two seemed determined to remain out of the way despite every person in attendance interrupting their whispered conversations to offer congratulations. The way they moved like one and spoke into each other’s ears, so quietly and gently, sent poison-tipped arrows into Jean’s half-broken heart. There was a rotten spot blooming around the first wound already and it ached, oh it ached as Plisetsky lowered his gaze to his boyfr – fiancé – and kissed the crown of his head in a dark corner.

Jean didn’t notice how they danced together, like one column of smoke in two black suits, and he didn’t pay attention to the rare smile on Altin’s face, and if anyone knew about the relaxed and boisterous laughter coming out of Plisetsky’s mouth it certainly wasn’t him. He, no, he was looking at the Katsuki-Nikiforov girl because she was cute and he was talking to sponsors because bronze hurt but he was still the third best in the whole world so he could inspire some kids, somewhere, by being on the Wheaties box if he wanted, and most of all he was paying attention to Bella, his sweet and smart Bella who smelled like flowers and lipstick and the future.

His acrid heart knew nothing of how they walked out, hand-in-hand, into the bright light of the hotel hallway, leaving him in the dark of the banquet room.

“You okay?” Bella was at his side as he saw them leave. She looked scared, almost, or sad as she looked up at him.

“Yeah, baby, of course.” He smiled down at her, hoping she wouldn’t see through him. The thing about Bella, though, is that she has goddamned X-Ray vision. She looked into him and tore pieces of him out at will, like a peeling sunburn, until he was scattered on the floor and unable to stand until she put him back together again.

“Don’t give me King JJ, Jean. I’d rather spend time with my husband right now.”

Jean’s smile faltered right on cue.

“I want to have some fun tonight. Dance with me?” Bella pulled him, headstrong and head first, into the dance floor. She was distracting him from the disappointment of bronze and the pain of being permanently ousted, which she understood in her own way, and everything else that weighed heavy on the head of her King. It was obvious she felt bad for him, wrapping him in pity, as she smiled at him but looked over to Mila and Sara who were hip-to-hip twenty feet away. Her pity dripped down –

“I’m not pitying you, Jean, I’m being honest with you. Be honest with me, okay?”

Well.

“Part of me hurts. Most of me is embarrassed about hurting.”

Isabella’s eyes sparkled with mischief as Jean bared his uncomfortable and impossible soul. She looked that way when they first met, after she filled her best friend’s locker with water balloons for her birthday and they sparkled the same way they had when she pulled him to a pier on some long forgotten beach and told him she loved him for the first time. She pushed him into the water right after and he promised to love her forever after he swam out of the ocean, covered in sea weed.

“Why are you looking like you’re going to key Altin’s motorcycle?”

“I’m about to go key Altin’s motorcycle.”

Bella smiled her devil’s smile, the one that spun Jean round and round as she skipped past him and headed out the door of the banquet hall into the light of the hotel. Although she wasn’t an athlete she was strong and fast and always kept up with him except for when she wanted to show off and would speed past him into the unknown future with her heels clattering away. Jean chased her as best as he could but the pre-banquet shots he took weighed him down to a sluggish and sloppy wet-foot run. He could barely make out where she was going until she climbed in an elevator and pressed the “close” button and waved goodbye, laughing to herself as he stumbled down the hallway.

Bella and Altin were good friends. They were both troublemakers and liked driving too fast and they got high together once, in high school, before either he or Altin was being drug tested regularly. Isabella was likely already figuring out the cost of detailing his motorcycle for him to make up for the inevitable damage she was going to cause, hiding it as an anonymous gift from a fan who “heard about it” through “reliable sources”. She was good like that.

Still, no matter how good she way, Jean was feeling antsy in the orange-yellow-gray haze carpark as they searched through rows of cars trying to find the black bike with a tiger sticker on it.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Bells.”

“He broke your heart. I don’t care.” She had her keys bared between her knuckles like a young woman scared of being attacked. It was a little funny knowing she was, and had always been, the attacker.

Without a second glance Bella lunged forward with her arm in front of her, teeth bared, hackles raised, black hair flying into the night. She didn’t need a second look or a word or reassurance, she had only ever needed her ideas and her wits to complete her plans and cause trouble. Jean realized a long time ago that she didn’t need him, even, but kept him around out of the goodness of her wild heart.

The tiger sticker came loose in her hands, dusty with paint chips.

“How old are you again?”

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Bella dusted her hands off on her blue party dress and tucked her keys back into her purse and clacked her Louboutins like Dorothy, smiling like a kid who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar but didn’t really fear punishment.

Jean’s heart was racing as he looked at the damage to Altin’s bike. He had been sitting next to him the first time he got his hands dirty with motor oil, back in Canada, and knew just how much he loved the machines he built and customized. This would kill him. A tiny flutter of child-like joy, unashamed and cruel, sparked in his heart.

“This was only your first present.”

Bella’s voice is far away – she’s already moving towards the elevator like nothing happened. Jean’s pulse quickens as she sways towards the door and he can do nothing but chase after her. Her skin is hot under his hands when he reaches her and it makes his mouth water. She’s always been just one step ahead of him but the chase has always been so sweet and rewarding when she lets him catch up, the way she is now, standing too close in the service elevator as they go up towards their room.

The hallway lights were too bright in Jean’s eyes and he had to squint into the light as Bella tottered down the hallway, loose from the excitement and champagne and vanilla shots, towards their room. She was laughing about something, cherry red lips spread wide. Suddenly, but not surprisingly, Jean’s pants were too tight and his shirt was uncomfortable against his skin so he took it off, called himself drunk, and began to let go of the night’s blisters while Bella shoved the pale door open with her fist, making it bang against the wall in the dead of night.

“You said you had another present for me?” Jean started as Bella pressed her cherry lips onto his – he talked through the kiss.

“Get naked and sit down.” She said, mirroring his action and speaking into his mouth with a smile.

Already shirtless Jean pulled off his shoes and pants and socks with little grace, too eager for whatever was about to transpire. The adrenalin of running to and from Altin’s bike had made his heart pound and head feel fuzzy in the best way and it only continued, now, as he undressed for his wife who stood over him and watched with her hands defiantly on her hips. He nearly fell over on his face taking his sweaty boxers off and she laughed, oh she laughed at him just right until he was half hard sitting on the white bed.  

As soon as he was down for the count Bella began to move to silent music and unzip herself, allowing the dark blue dress to swish lazily against her pale skin as she twirled before it hit the floor with a soft flutter of satin and chiffon around her spiked black heels. She stepped out of the blue pile with an easy grace, like it was she who was the skater, and moved with a cat-like gait towards Jean just to give him a small kiss before she turned again.

She was wearing his favorite set of hers underneath the dress. Dark blue, like her outerwear, and contrasting so well with her skin and her eyes and her hair. Lace lay neatly across her ass, and crawled around her strong hips like vines and dipped between her legs so easily, without bunching or wrinkling, like they were drawn on with an artist’s flair. Her bra pushed her breasts up until they nearly spilled over like a cup of wine begging to be drunk down and JJ wanted nothing more than to put his mouth on her but he couldn’t, because she told him to sit, and it was that mouth of hers that always got him going or stopping or up or down or any which way it wanted him that day. It was that mouth of hers that made him tremble.

“Close your eyes.” Her voice was soft as smoke from across the room.

JJ could hear her rustling through her bag. He was dripping hard.

His eyes were still closed as she walked back towards him. He wouldn’t be able to tell if she weren’t still wearing those damn heels, shiny black with red bottoms that scared him a little.

“Keep ‘em closed, okay? You gotta trust me.”

Jean nodded his head as Bella wrapped her hand around his cock, red and achingly hard like his heart had been down in the banquet. Her hand was gentle, not assertive like Plisetsky’s. Her hand eased him into it, she didn’t start too fast or too loud or too hard the way Altin had. Her mouth, when it finally reached his head, was perfect. It hadn’t been perfect the first time because she went too fast and too hard but they had learned together how to make each other happy and now he couldn’t trade it for anything.

She was moaning, a little, around him because she knew he liked it. His heart was going even faster in his chest as bursts of electricity shot through his body when she moved her tongue just right or sucked her cheeks in. His eyes were closed but he cold picture it – her black hair swaying around her shoulders and her red lipstick staying in place because it was magic, and her eyes peering up at him, trying to push him over the edge with her stare alone. _What, can’t take a challenge?_

He moaned as she ran her manicured hands, nails painted pale blue, up his thighs and wrapped one hand around his balls just the way he liked. She was putting on a show even though he couldn’t see anything and it was like nothing he had ever experienced.

As the fire in his stomach dropped lower and lower and his breathing became ragged she stopped without needing to be told and got onto the bed. Jean still wasn’t looking as she settled somewhere up at the headboard and set something down on the side table.

“Keep your eyes closed but come here into my lap.”

Jean, still in darkness, tried to scramble over to her but it was awkward looking for her with his eyes squeezed shut. He could hear her breathing and once he put a hand on her foot accidently he realized she was still wearing those black heels. A show for sure.

Her legs were gently spread but he was corrected when he tried to sit himself between them. With a hand running up her silky thigh he was adjusted by her firm hand until he was in her lap.

“Open them.”

Once again he was caught off guard by the light. She was smirking at him, waiting for him to react. She was topless, allowing her breasts free from their confines and Jean wanted to put his mouth on her pink nipples, hardened in the cool air, but he couldn’t because there, between her legs, was something that made his mouth go dry and then wet again.

“A present.”

Jean was speechless. The strapon was black like her hair and a little larger than his own cock – it looked like it was made to fit inside of him. It curved up against her and the harness carved into her ass and hips and matched her thigh-high stockings. Absolute territory.

Wordlessly she reached her slender arm and grabbed the lube from the table and pressed it into Jean’s palm.

“I wanna watch you.”

Jean fumbled a little as he opened the cap. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t breathe. Why hadn’t he thought of this? He knew his trysts with Altin and Plisetsky weren’t about sensation alone but if Bella, who was the best parts of each and so much more mixed together, was willing to give him what he wanted physically part of the blood flow from the damage to his greedy heart would be staunched easily. He could feel his heart squeezing as it beat anew, lighter, while he got lube all over his fingers.

The first finger went in easily because it always did, but he pushed into himself slowly, trying to match Bella’s showmanship. He tried to keep his face relaxed and cool, like he wasn’t dying a thousand deaths while Bella rubbed at her chest with a predatory sensuality.

His second finger helped him find his prostate, which he could do regularly now that Plisetsky had shown him how, and he cried out. Bella matched him, allowing whispers of pleasure to come out of her mouth. They were so close to each other they could have kissed on the mouth but their lips barely touched so instead Bella began to kiss his jaw and his ear and his neck while he fingered himself open for her.

“Baby you look so good like this.” She said as she placed her hand, cool and calming, against the burning skin on his neck. He leaned into her touch until she was nearly holding him up while his arm trembled and his thighs shook from the effort of staying upright.

He breathed in her perfume as he worked a third finger inside of himself. He was nearly ready for her but wanted nothing more than to slide down easily onto her cock without making her worry. He wanted to fuck her like that, with her inside him, or maybe he wanted her to fuck him while his face was pressed into the pillow or maybe he wanted it both ways, every single way with her for the rest of his pitiful life.

“Bella, can I ride you?”

“Always, baby.” She grinned up at him.

The strapon slid in just the way he needed it to – all glide and smooth silk and a promise of something more than just stretch and burn. Bella moaned as he leaned his weight into her and it made him wonder if there was something inside her or pressed up against her. The pink on her cheeks certainly suggested as much. She pressed her head against the headboard of the bed, forcing her hair to splay out a little so he smoothed it down while holding her face with both of his hands, holding her steady as he began to bounce up and down in her lap.

When she put her arms around him he felt almost protected, like he could do or say anything and she would grant his wishes. He had never felt this way with Plisetsky or Altin; they had always ripped him to shreds before his very eyes. It had been intoxicating yes, but nothing had ever left him more sore that the eyes of Yuri Plisetsky, glass, or the arms of Otabek Altin, crushing. For a second Jean became certain those two would destroy each other and he felt sad for them, torn down by their own fire.

Jean arched back and the change in angles allowed him to work his own prostate until his cock was a leaky tap. The way Bella filled him was too good for him to handle and he felt tears prick into his eyes before batting them away. He had cried turning sex before. He hadn’t liked it.

Bella was squirming under him, trying to add her own force to the feeling in his ass. Her strong legs pushed her up enough to fuck him on her own – he didn’t need to do anything to make it good for himself because he had Bella, sweet, smart, fucking sexy Isabella to make it all worthwhile.

“Let’s switch.” He moaned, voice half broken, into the air.

His ass felt empty as he pulled off but the promise of something better made it worthwhile. Bella’s hand ran dangerously down his back as he presented himself to her for the taking unashamedly. He didn’t mind Bella seeing the embarrassing parts of him now because she had always seen, an accepted, the worst of him.

She slid in again.

She saw those parts and crushed them, making him a better person by side effect.  

Jean pressed his face into the pillow and couldn’t hold back his cries anymore. He was loud enough he knew the neighbors would hear but he didn’t care – the only thing that mattered was the feeling of Bella pushing in and pulling out as she fucked him into oblivion, stoking the blaze that was burning through every part of him with her pushes and her whimpers and her yes-Jean’s.

“Bella, Bella, Bella.” He started. He couldn’t say anything but her name, he couldn’t think about anything other than the sight of her hair flying around her face as she began to sweat.

  
“Look to your left.” She panted as she fucked him.

The dark and uninterrupted night outside their balcony door created a near perfect mirror in the glass and Jean could see himself, hunched over into the bed, and he could see Bella, upright and strong as she pulled out of his ass slowly and sunk back in with the power and agility of a ballet dancer.

Bella’s hand rested on Jean’s back until she moved them slowly down to his sides while they both looked in the mirror. Her nails left trails of sparks down his skin until she reached his stomach where she lay her palms flat and held him, tight, while continuing to move her hips in the brutal pace she set.

When her hands found his cock, left alone and untouched, he squirmed at the overstimulation so she eased him into it, again, making her grip firmer and tighter until it was a perfect ring for him to fuck into. She stroked him and, with her other hand, teased at his nipples until he was panting and sweating and screaming her name while she abused his prostate.

He came in a flash, boiling water spilling out of his mouth and his skin burning up like a fever, spilling hot, white come over the bed. She fucked him until he was pulling away and turning so he could kiss her because they hadn’t kissed in days or years or ever and he needed her lips on him right now or else he would die helplessly in love in an old hotel room.

He yanked her harness down, likely destroying it, and plunged his fingers into her and rubbed her clit the way she liked because he, too, had learned with her. She was so wet she was dripping as he slid his fingers into her.

“Jean, baby, please!” She began, staring him down as he worked desperately.

She squirmed and twitched and shouted as she came around his fingers. He could feel her pussy tighten and relax with the waves of her orgasm until she was panting and limp in his arms.  

The bed was damp with sweat and come but they didn’t move, choosing to breathe together and kiss each other and love each other wholly and perfectly. There might be others along the way but this, right here, was his forever. His perfection. His heart.

“How come you never got jealous of Mila and Sara?” Jean asked, sometime later, as they lay silently in each other’s arms.

“I did, at first, but I decided to put my friendship with them above everything else. It’s easy to be happy for a friend when something goes right for them. Plus, I’ve never wanted anything permanent outside of you. It hurt for a long time but I learned to move past it.”

Her voice had a far off quality, like she was contemplating her exploits with the other women in a new light. Detached, somehow.

Jean’s phone pinged in the dim lamp light.

**From Otabek, 2:14am:  
I wanted to ask but couldn’t find the time – will you be my best man? I want you there next to me so I don’t faint or cry or something else embarrassing. **

It might hurt, Jean realized, but he wanted to be happy. He wanted to learn another thing from Bella.

**To Otabek, 2:17am:  
Of course! I didn’t get to say it either, but I’m happy for you and Yuri. Really. **

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for kinoglowworm, who gave me the idea. Thank you!! I thought I was done and I was pretty happy for some of the first fics I've ever published (not necessarily written) but I think this idea kind of wraps everything up much nicer. I might change it from four separate parts to a four-chapter thing but that's a lot of effort. 
> 
> Once again, I've used very heavy handed symbolism in my porn because I'm That Kind of Girl. For example, Jean refers to Yuri and Otabek by last name only until the end. In the first two parts Jean knocks on a white door to have a sad threeway and in this part Bella barrels through one, leading the way. Jean keeps being blinded by the light, literally. 
> 
> You can't fix heartbreak with sex. Only time and communication and fake-it-till-you-make-it will help, trust me. 
> 
> Please let me know if ya liked it!


End file.
